


He Is.

by AwkwardGhost_1782



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alexander’s birth name is Asha, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bullying, Depression, Gay John Laurens, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Misgendering, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Transgender Alexander, trans!alex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardGhost_1782/pseuds/AwkwardGhost_1782
Summary: Asha lives a fairly content life. She has nice friends, a loving family, pets that haven't died, and a worthy education. She feels like she should be happy, after all, why wouldn't she?Because Asha isn't a she, and nobody in the world but him knows that.





	1. Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy there! So quick note before we begin the story: I am not transgender myself, so if you’re a transgender person and feel like I did something incorrectly don’t hesistate to tell me and I’ll do my best to fix it!

 

My name is Asha.

Most people would think I'm a pretty lucky girl. I got adopted by a nice couple after my cousin shot his brains out. I have an amazing friend and an amazing adoptive brother. I have excellent grades, live in a nice house, love the cutest cat ever, Pirate. Most boys find me pretty, I'm bisexual which is apparently pretty cool nowadays? For some people at least. And my beta fish is _still_ alive (yayyy). I'm what most people would think as lucky, I _should_ be happy, and yet I'm not.

Because I'm actually a boy, and no one knows that. And I feel like it's killing me inside.

I feel like I should probably rewind a little. Ever since I was a child I felt... different, like a piece that wouldn't fit in the puzzle because I was put in the wrong box. Something felt wrong but I couldn't exactly place why. I didn't like the toys I would get, the clothes, the makeup, all those things that would point at me and scream _HEY_ , _I'M_ _A_ _GIRL!_  It got worse as I grew up, suddenly my body was a pointer itself and without realizing I would stare disapprovingly at my reflection in the mirror. It wasn't because of the same reason the other girls at school would, I didn't want bigger breasts, or plumper lips, or a thinner waist. Quite the contrary actually. The disconnection between my brain and my body made me feel trapped within myself and I had no explanation for it. Then one day while messing around on the internet I came up across the word 'transgender'. The definition stuck in my mind but I forced myself to brush it off. It _couldn't_ be.

But then that same night at around three o' clock in the morning I realized,

" _Oh_ ,"

"It _can_ be."

After a week of research just to make sure I came to the conclusion that I'm transgender, and I've kept that information locked inside my head ever since. I am lucky to have all I was given and I can't ruin that. I could lose my friends, my family, my education, the stakes are too high. I would keep lying about who I am every morning if it means I get to keep this life.

Even if it's killing me.

"Asha! Lafayette!" Martha, my adoptive mother, yelled from downstairs. "Johnny is here!"

I bounced off my bed.

There is a chance I might have a gigantic crush on my neighbor, John Laurens. But can you blame me? He's just so brave, and honest, and fearless, and funny, and smart, and oh so so dreamy. He's also so kind, you should've seen how he got that time when a bird crashed against his window. He held her so tenderly and for days nursed her back to health. I think that was the day I realized I like him, too bad he would never like me. John is gay, and maybe I am a boy on the inside but outside I look just like any girl. I can't give him what he wants or needs. And so I admire creepily from the shadows. I'm lucky he hasn't realized how I stare at him during gym class.

I put on my beat up green converses on and after saying goodbye to Pirate and Sir Bubbles I run down the stairs, hoping this won't be the day I trip and crack my skull against a step. My adoptive brother, Lafayette, is already there besides John, who's looking as handsome as ever.

Have I mentioned how his freckles look like little stars? It's beautiful. Every time he says they make him look ugly I want to slap him with love.

"Hey, Ash," He greets me. I walk toward him and we perform our super secret handshake everyone knows about. We finish it with a cool fist bump and I smile.

"What are the plans for today, Doc?" I tease him with the nickname. Since the day I found out he wants to be a pediatric doctor I've basically replaced any other nicknames with that one. Unfortunately, his father insists on him studying law or business, I fear he ends up bowing to his father's wishes. While I know it would be fun to go to law school together I don't want John to be unhappy. It's his life after all, he deserves to spend it doing what he loves.

"First we meet up with the sisters on Starbucks and then we'll just hang out around the city and see what we find," He shrugged with that easy smile of his.

"Sounds like a plan," Lafayette said.

We said goodbye to the Washingtons and climbed up John's eco-friendly car (he refused to have any car that wasn't eco-friendly), as always Gilbert sat on the copilot seat and me on the back, where I have a perfect view of John's untamed curls.

I swear I'm not obsessed.

I leaned my head against the window glass and looked outside, my faint reflection glancing back at me.

But that person isn't me.

 


	2. Going Out: Part One

 

By the time we arrived to Starbucks, the Schuylers were already settled around a biggish table. As Lafayette greeted everyone with a kiss on each cheek I asked for everyone's order, including John's. Even though I may or may not know it by memory.

It's a Venti, Skim, Extra Shot, Extra-Whip, Sugar-Free Caramel Macchiato with Soy Milk in case you were wondering.

I make the unsurprisingly long line and greet our usual barista: Hercules. Herc is in college studying fashion design, which surprises many. When you think of a fashion design mayor most people either think of an extravagant gay guy or your stereotypical girl, but Hercules is tall, with dark skin and broad shoulders and muscular arms. He's a nice guy, contrary to what his intimidating looks may suggest. He always gives us illegal discounts which is great.

I return to the table, not really feeling like waiting on a corner. As I sit down next to John I notice my friends seem to be talking about Peggy's crush or something like that, who even knows anymore.

"What are y'all talking about?" I low-key yell, absolutely hating how high my voice sounds.

"Peggy seems to have a crush," Lafayette confirmed.

"I do not!" She youngest Schuyler argued. "Asha, help me out here. Us girls have to stick together!"

Hahahaha,

No.

"Who's this person you supposedly like?" I ask, trying my best to make a serious face.

Peggy rolled her amber eyes dramatically. "Fleury, you know the guy?"

"No, not really," I say.

"I mean, he's very nice and everything. But not really my type, y'know," She explains.

"Well I think you two would be perfect for each other," Eliza interferes.

"Agreed," Lafayette nods.

"Well, I think y'all should fuck yourselves and let Peggy like whoever she likes," John bluntly says. In response, Angelica throws a crumpled piece of napkin at him.

"See!? This is why John is the best guy here," Peggy declares.

_What_ _about_ _me?_ Iwant to ask on impulse which fuck no. The closet seems very nice right now, thank you very much.

"I'm glad to be of help," Laurens responds on an equally dramatic tone.

"You guys are assholes," Eliza says. On the background, I hear Hercules calling my name.

"Care to help me out?" I ask John.

"Sure thing, Ash,"

We walk up to the counter and with a lot of willpower we manage to carry three drinks each without spilling them all over the floor.

I wish my hands were bigger than this.

"Here you have it, hoes!" I give the drinks to each respective person and then sit down with my own, silently sighing.

I'm with my friends, I shouldn't be feeling so out of it. They're great and I love them, but lately I just wanna stay in my room all day and cuddle with Pirate. I pretty much have to fake a nice mood all the time and I'm sick of it. Every time I go out I am constantly reminded that I do not look like a male, that people don't see me as a male, and that I might never be seen as one. I didn't choose to be like this and yet I'm stuck with this illness. I just wish I wasn't born this way.

"You okay, Ash?" Laurens quietly asks me, I give him my best fake smile.

"Of course, Doc.”

 


	3. Going Out: Part Two

 

After Starbucks we all head to Our Park, the Schuylers on their car and us on John's. Our Park is just an abandoned playground we claimed as ours, nobody's ever there so it is always just us. It seems kinda creepy when you first look at it but with time it has developed some sort of homey atmosphere. I love going to Our Park.

I lay on the rusty metal slide and John sits on the stairs behind me, the Schuylers settle on the swings and Lafayette stays on the bench like a normal person.

"It would be nice to bring Catherine and Cornelia here someday," Eliza mentions. Peggy makes a face.

"And let them get tetanus or some shit? Nah," She says.

"This place isn't _that_ dangerous," The middle sister insists, even though the swing she's sitting at looks like it's about to break any second now.

"P.J would get pissed, though. You know how he is with the little ones,"

Eliza sticks her tongue out. "Y'all so boring,"

I think John said something afterward,I don't know, it could've been Lafayette. I just kinda... spaced out. I didn't feel like talking much, I hate my own voice. I wish it was deeper, like John's for example. He has such a deep voice, it makes me both melt inside and burn with envy. Maybe someday I could have it, but not now. Would my friends even still like me if I were to come out? I don't want them to think that I'm doing it for attention or something, as if I had wished to be transgender. Quite the fucking contrary, I'd give _anything_ to have been born a male, to not have to go through all this shit.

But here I am, afraid of my own friends.

"Right, mon amie?" Lafayette said.

"Uh," I pause, what's the conversation topic, again? "Yeah, of course,"

"I told you she used to like Kitty, didn't I!?" The Frenchman celebrated. Wait, why is my nonexistent love life the subject?

"How did I not know about this!?" Elizabeth screeched, Kitty and she are pretty close friends so I get the shock. But it's not like we ever went out, Catharine is a straight girl and me, well, as far as everyone is concerned I'm a girl too.

"Not everyone has to know about my romantic failures, Eliza," I interfere. My love life basically consists of rejections and some flings here and there, but I've never had a committed long-term relationship. Either I'm too busy trying to be someone in life or they just straight up don't like me, which is a pretty terrible combination. With John I am pretty much stuck on situation number two, another reason why I wouldn't mind jumping off a fucking cliff. Not to be dramatic of course, but I'm pretty much going to die alone. Because who would date a tranny like me? No one, not only I will never have a real dick but I'm also not exactly attractive. I'm skinny, _too_ skinny. Of course, girls will approach me and say they wish they could have my weight but that's because they have never felt their own ribs against their skin. It's the result of years of starving. My veins are marked against my pale skin, moles are scattered everywhere on my body, my hands and legs are bony, my nose too big. I normally try to not look at myself in the mirror but—

But I'm doing it again and I need to _stop_.

_Friends, in public, get yourself together._

_“_ You're no fun, Alexis!" Eliza jokingly whines as I force myself out of my head.

"Boohooo!"

As far as everyone is concerned, I am _happy_.

 


	4. Alexander VS Existence

Yesterday was a shittier day than usual. I've been having those more frequently and it absolutely sucks, I just wish my thoughts would leave me alone if only for a day.When it got late John took Lafayette and me home and then went to his own house, which is right beside ours. I said goodnight to George and Martha and then locked myself in my room. If I cried myself to sleep last night nobody needs to know that.

The next day started at six thirty a.m with my alarm ringing beside my head, I wanted to hit snooze but I had slept so badly I didn't even want to try anymore. Feeling like my soul abandoned my body I walked toward my bathroom and brushed my teeth, which helped me wake up a bit. I dry my face and turn to look at myself in the mirror, my eye bags staring right back at me.

This isn't me.

That's a girl, but I'm not. I know I'm not and yet for some reason I am stuck in this body. I just want to be able to look at my reflection and see someone I can recognize as myself, someone with broad shoulders and a square jaw, facial hair on my chin and a thick neck. _Alexander_.

I've always wanted to be called Alexander.

It's not original by any means, but I like it. I feel like it fits in a way "Asha" never has. It feels more like me.

"Alexander Hamilton," I tell my reflection.

Not yet.

I put on a green oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, hoping it'll be enough to hide my figure, and tie my dark brown hair on a bun without really minding how messy it turned. Perhaps my hair is one of the few things I'm not that dysphoric about.

Guess I'm ready for the day.

 

•••

 

The student government absolutely _sucks_.

I thought it would be fun to join, so I applied for the position of treasurer. My school's GSA pretty much made possible I won the election because it was important to have "LGBT representation" in the school or something. Not really complaining, after all, it got me where I am now.

The problem is that the rest of the government are assholes.

We have everything from Thomas Jefferson and James Madison to John Adams and his girlfriend Abigail, who's technically not an official member of the government but for some reason is always here, doesn't matter, she does a better job than Adams himself anyway. Then there's Aaron Burr, the oh ever impartial one, John Langdon who's a bit too emotional for politics, and Frederick Muhlenberg who seems to have a thing against the German language for some reason.

Point is, everyone here hates me. But it's okay because I hate them back.

"People, this is the student government, stop gossiping for five minutes and let's do our fucking job!" I yell, if I have to hear _one_ more thing about how Margaret Eaton is a whore or something I will stab someone with a pen.

"Mind your own business, switch hitter," Jefferson quietly mumbles.

I scoff loudly. "Funny, that's quite the opposite of what you were doing,"

"Everyone, please let's remain calm," Langdon says only to be ignored.

"The Mexican started it," Adams immaturely said, as always. I have no idea where they got that rumor from, I don't even speak _Spanish_.

My life will be a thousand times better once this meeting is over, I hate my classmates, I hate the student government, I hate the world, and I hate myself. Maybe this wouldn't be so draining if John were here with me, but he takes horseback riding lessons and they interfere with the government schedule. It's pretty shitty.

I look at the clock with longing, I'll be out of here any second now.

 

•••

 

That second came around forty minutes later, but it felt heavenly. We did end up discussing the possibility of more funding for the art related clubs, unfortunately the majority of the government didn't support the idea. Bitches.

Being in that room just drains the life out of me, as if I were allergic to idiots. Wouldn't be surprised if I was. Jesus, I just wanna go home.

"You okay there, Lex?" Someone says, John. I look up from my shoes and see him leaning against the door of his white car, Lafayette excitedly waving at me from the inside.

"What are you doing here, Doc?" I question him as I approach my friends.

"Got out early, thought I'd give you and Laf a ride," He shrugs with a carefree smile. I love seeing him like this, when he doesn't look like he's carrying the world on his shoulders.

"You're the best," I give him a quick hug to not make it awkward, but I'm still able to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne.

For a moment I don't even feel overwhelmed.

 


	5. Just Another Bad Day

 

That moment is over pretty quickly.

John takes Lafayette I home and as I'm saying goodbye I see Martha and George waiting for us on the entrance, waiting for us and wanting to talk about our day. The sentiment is sweet but I don't particularly want to share, so I just give the standard answer and let Lafayette take the lead. He talks about this girl he likes, Adrienne, and about how smart she is and how her eyes shine when they give mozzarella sticks during lunch.

After a bit more chitchat I manage to waddle up to my room discretely, I open the door and my cat, Pirate, immediately jumps off my bed and then wanders under it.

Nice to see he missed me.

Ignoring the tense string that holds my almost nonexistent emotional stability together I start taking my shoes and then my pants off, trying my best to not look down at my own body. I'm fully aware of how it looks, and seeing it will only make me feel worse. And yet as I'm taking off my sports bra I glance down and I'm met with those two fucking blobs of fat I hate so much. I immediately feel my skin crawl, it almost feels... disgusting. The metaphorical string snaps, it snaps very frequently lately.

I hurry to put on an oversized shirt and sit on the cold, dirty floor, sinking my nails on my legs and scratching out of pure reflex, causing slightly painful pink marks to appear on my flesh. It was too frustrating, how wrong it feels. At least a little pain can distract me from it, even though it doesn't really make things better. I switch to pinching my arms until the skin bruises, biting my lip and trying to keep sobs from coming out of them.

I think I hear Lafayette knock on my door, I don't know. It's too loud inside my head to pay attention to what's going outside.

_Small shoulders._

_Feminine chest._

_Tiny hands._

_Girly waist._

_High pitched voice._

_Small stature._

_Girl._

_Girl._

_Girl._

If only I could rip my skin off, would I finally be comfortable with myself? I don't want to be trapped in the prison of my own body. Maybe if were to swallow too many pills I could finally be happy, feeling absolutely nothing seems so much better than being a stranger inside my own flesh right now.

"Asha?" A voice accompanied with a thick French accent says. Turns out Lafayette was indeed there.

Just stop it, please.

What I would give to be called Alexander.

"What?" I manage to respond.

God, my voice sounds gross. Femininely gross.

"Where's the phone charger?"

Of course.

"Living room," I bullshit, I have no idea where the charger is.

"Oh! Thank you,"

Yeah, whatever. Can you leave now?

When his footsteps dim away I curl up where I'm sitting on the floor, hoping I'll sink on the wood boards and cease to exist. And then, only then, maybe I'll finally be happy with myself. I'm not paying attention to the tears that stream down my face, leaving my body when I can't. I just disregard them how I disregard my feelings every day for the sake of my family. Who cares if nobody really knows me? At least they're happy thinking they do.

Suddenly I feel a tiny, moist thing bump awkwardly against my head. Confused, I look up.

Pirate's sitting next to me.

Maybe he cares just a little after all.

 


	6. Crowds

 

I'm not exactly _proud_ of yesterday, if I'm being honest.

And now, because of my complete lack of mental stability, I'm sporting some not very attractive bruises on my arms. I cover them with a long sweater, of course. These are not some scratches I can just blame on Pirate, unfortunately. But I'm not really complaining, I get cold very easily and I was most likely gonna wear something long-sleeved or a jacket either way. It's just the knowledge that I'm hiding something that makes me borderline paranoid.

This is why John would never like me even if I looked like a boy. Because I suck. Because I'm weak.

I walk through the crowded school halls feeling like every single pair of eyes is directed toward me, watching. Judging. _Knowing_. I hear giggles and even though I'm perfectly aware they're not because of me, a nonexistent voice suggests quietly in my ear that they might be, after all.

It's louder in my head than in the hall around me.

"Hey, Alex," Someone says behind me, and it takes me a moment to realize it's John.

Shit. I adore you but please, go away.

"Hey Doc," I say with as much fake enthusiasm as I can muster. I try to speed up my step a little, hoping I'll be able to magically lose John in the crowd of students or something.

He asks if a saw a video he sent about... uh, something. I don't know. I don't think I actually saw it. I recall seeing the notification and thinking "maybe later, when I'm feeling less like jumping off a bridge" but unfortunately that later never came as I still feel like jumping off said bridge. I try to think of a bullshit excuse in the spot, but my mind is too crowded with other thoughts to come up with anything smart.

Resigned, I accept I didn't watch the video.

Unfortunately, that only launches John into a description of said damn video.

I don't really have enough energy to process what he's saying, something about a guy giving a lizard CPR? I can only concentrate on the way his hazel eyes shine a bit with excitement as he narrates the video, how dimples will form subtly on each side of his mouth, which moves quickly and exhales a million words per second. Which is a fleshy pink and has a couple discrete freckles on the corner. Which I kind of really want to kiss.

What I would do to be able to be what he wants and needs.

"—with the small guy basically sunbathing, it was pretty awesome," He concludes, and I nod like I heard a word of what he said.

"That sounds great," I bullshit, and just then then bell rings, finally releasing me from this beautiful torment.

He pouts just slightly, which has probably to do with the fact that he has calculous first period.

John is the smartest person I've ever had the pleasure to meet, but he cannot do numbers.

Reluctantly we say goodbye and John heads toward his class. I, on the other hand, should be heading toward my AP History class, and it's not like I hate the course, but it's just so early, and I feel so... _eh_. Like I could be worse, but I could also definitely be better. I could be so much better than this, but I'm just stuck in _eh_ today. That's sure better than _ugh_ or _cnkdjdnf_ , but I don't like _eh_ , those days are to be spent under the blankets regretting my last decisions and watching weird videos John sends me while listening to Lafayette sing along some French music from the kitchen. Days like this are not meant to be spent on a freaking school.

I hate to cut class, and it's something I've only ever done once before in seventh grade (and I have reasons to believe it was justified), but right now I'm really tempted to lock myself in a stall and... I don't know. Pretend I don't exist, I guess.

Without really meaning to, my feet begin to wander toward the bathroom. And I do nothing to stop them.

 


	7. Disaster Zone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic Attack

 

By the time I realized I wandered into the boy's bathroom rather than the girl's, it was already too late.

I was too focused on evading the nonexistent cameras, movement detectors, and red lasers that my mind formulated out of fear because I'm cutting _freaking_ class and, again, I never do this. Once I made it inside I immediately ran to the big stall (y'all know the one) and locked myself in there, throwing my backpack on a corner on the process. After that I kinda just... stood there. Dumb and numb. My heart was beating so loudly I felt like the protagonist of _The_ _Tell_ - _Tale_ _Heart_. Everyone in the school, the neighborhood, the city could probably hear it and they would all know I'm a coward who hides in abathroom out of fear of being caught harming myself, regardless of how covered my arms and legs are. Because I'm a paranoid creep.

As if to hide myself from the world I backed away from the wall until my scrawny thighs met the cold (and thankfully, _clean_ ) toilet. Not really having any other plans, I sat on the lidless seat and pulled out my phone. Is this what people do when they cut class? I should probably ask Hercules if I ever do this again, he looks like the kind of guy who used to cut class back in high school. For the next half an hour or so I scrolled through Twitter and got into arguments with idiots just for the sake of it. Which, is not exactly ideal, but it gives me weird tiny confidence boosts. And I really needed those at the moment. Plus, some people just really need to be told when they're wrong.

Everything was going alright. I mean, I was kinda bored but at least the urges of jumping off a bridge dimmed ever so slightly. Which was more than I could usually ask for.

Then I heard footsteps entering the bathroom.

Of course, still under the impression I was in the girl's restroom, I didn't panic. I thought it was just some girl going to take a piss or fix her hair. But then the footsteps gave themselves a voice, and it snapped me out of my oblivion.

"Stupid math," The voice, clearly male, said. "Literally _when_ am I gonna use this shit in life!? Never, is when,"

I knew that voice, but it didn't matter. I became aware of the blue tiles and the fact that the door wasn't where it was supposed to be. How could've I been so stupid!? I knew where I was going, didn't I? It's too late to pretend I didn't and that I didn't fuck up. He was going to know and then _everyone_ was going to know and it would be the end of everything I've worked for. My heart wasn't just beating anymore but thundering, it dropped lightning on the street and caused dogs to bark at it. My hands shook like an earthquake and sweated like a tsunami, flooding all the way to my armpits and neck. The world became dizzy and spun like a unsteady tornado. My stomach became a disaster zone and like a breaking dam, wanted to spill out. My breath started coming short and my throat started closing until no air was allowed in or out and I was trapped, trapped, _trapped_. 

"Asha?" The voice I refused to acknowledge said. Unconsciously, I whimpered, knowing it was over. Everything was over. "I can see your backpack, what are you doing in there?"

I opened my heavy eyelids and glanced at the corner where my tattered backpack laid. It was dirty and had my bi pride pin accomplished by many others. It was painfully obvious it was mine to anyone who knew me. I knew I couldn't hide forever from the voice, from _John_. And so reluctantly I stood up and dragged my stone-heavy feet toward the stall door. After pausing for a second, I unlocked it and pushed it open.

"Asha, wha—" Laurens paused abruptly as his eyes wandered down. Oh god, he _knows_. "What happened to your arms?"

Oh.

I look down and see my sleeves pushed up, yesterday's bruises were now accomplished by fresh pink scratches. I must've been scratching myself without realizing. Shit.

"Nothing!" I hurried to say, even though it was obviously a lie. "Go away, John. I'm okay,"

He frowned with indignation, like I just said the worse offense you could ever say to a John Laurens. "I'm not leaving you like this," He exclaimed. Thanks Doc, now I'm aware I'm not only a hot mess on the inside but on the outside, too.

After a few seconds of me silently glaring at him, John signed and let his eyes soften. "C'mere," And without asking anything else he engulfed me in this arms on a warm hug, and the tears I tried to keep locked away started raining with no intention of stopping. I could hear his soft voice telling me to take deep breaths, and slowly I managed to will the air back into my lungs where they belong.

"Wanna skip?" He asked once I was more stable. I'm not sure if how long that took, I could only count time in breaths.

"No." I said, even though I was already skipping. 

"Me either, but we're getting out of here anyway,"

 

•••

 

Our Park was unsurprisingly empty when John and I arrived. We sat down on the rusty swings and I let the silence settle in. I was going to be okay, for now. John didn't even ask what was I doing on that bathroom. Now I feel like I overreacted, if I weren't so stupidly scared then I wouldn't be jumping into conclusions like a freaking toad. Feeling the tears creep in once again, I started swaying the swing back and forth slowly, almost as if I were rocking myself.

"Is it the Student Government?" John breaks the silence. Strangely, it doesn't feel abrupt. 

I sigh. "It's a lot of things,"

"Is– is there anything I can do to help? I—"

Without being able to help myself I take his hand and squeeze it gently.

"This is enough,"

 


	8. Ribless

 

It's been three days since The Bathroom Incident™ occurred and I have the slight feeling that John might be spoiling me. He sent me more pictures of cute animals in bowties than usual, bought me my favorite color of jolly rangers (it's red in case you were wondering), sat down with me for three hours while I tried to understand how biology even works, and even offered to carry my backpack which probably weights more than me once or twice. It's... nice. I guess. Weird, also. I don't like being pitied or treated like a helpless child, but on the other hand I can't help but crave the attention John has been giving me.

But that slight satisfaction of being the temporary subject of John'a attentions is accompanied by one single bitter thought: John does not love me, and he never will. No matter how much he spoils me and treats me like I deserve the world, and acts like the sweetest friend I could ever ask for, I'm not what he wants nor what he needs. And I will never be.

Again I find myself in front of my taunting mirror, my brain pointing out every single detail that makes every inch of my skin crawl. My slim shoulders and gentle jawline, the skinny neck and the lanky arms. My lips, my eyes, my goddamn boob blobs I sometimes wish I could just rip off. I open the cabinet where I keep my Emergency Bubblegum in case I ever need to ground myself (which I use more than I wish I would) but something besides it catches my eye, a little roll looking so inviting and tempting.

Ace bandages.

I know the consequences, I've read every single post and warning and I'm aware of what it can do to my health and my ribs and that they can fuck me up.

But it'll be for _just_ _a_ _second_.

Before I can talk myself out of it I grab the bandages and throw my oversized shirt and jacket into the ground. I wrap them around my chest quickly with nervous anxiety and tie them tightly so they don't fall off.

I try to take a deep breath and it hurts. It's thight and constructed. For a few seconds I feel like I can‘t breathe.

But god it looks so _flat_. I almost sob out of relief.

I walk around my room in tiny nervous steps as I keep looking down at my chest, or lack of it should I say. _This_ is what I want. Always. Every single second I live I want to be able to look down and see my chest looking this flat. Perfectly nearly boobless.

The pain would be so worth it if I were to always look like this. The pain is worth it.

I hear something snap behind me but I ignore it favor of touching my chest because _damn_ _I_ _can_ _barely_ _feel_ them. It's probably just Pirate anyway, living the good ol' cat life.

"Hey, Ash. So I was at the mall and I saw these chocolates and I know they're your favorite so I just had to—"

 _F_ _u_ _c_ _k_ .

I turn around so fast it makes my head spin. There, on the now open window, sits John with a box of chocolates on his hand. He must've climbed the tree near our windows as usual but fuck, why today? Why now!?

I don't know if it's the ace bandages or my own anxious breathing but every second it passes that we tensely stare at each other my chest hurts more and more and it progressively gets harder and harder to breathe. I feel like I'm underwater and I'm sinking further down than I already was.

"What are you doing!?" John suddenly breaks the silence and I unintentionally step back.

"You were _not_ supposed to see this," I say, somewhat angry. At who exactly I'm not sure.

"Asha you're gonna get yourself hurt, take those things off your chest!" He scolds me as he jumps inside the room and leaves the box of chocolates in the bed.

"I—" I start, but I know he's right. I know putting the bandages off was stupid, I simply didn't happen to care.

With glassy eyes I walk to the bathroom and slam the door closed.

 

•••

 

"So?"

Fifteen minutes later I find myself sitting on the floor in front of John, crosslegged and wearing an oversized sweater and jacket. My cheeks burn with shame and I can't stand to look up from the floor toward his eyes.

"You weren't supposed to see that," I say, a weak repetition of what I already said.

"Well I did anyway," He says. "So I think I at the very least deserve an explanation. Alexis you— ace bandages are dangerous if–"

"I know!" I snap.

"Then why did you do it!?"

My heartbeat is beating hard, so hard it makes my eardrums ring. I'm sweating, I'm shaking, but I know there no way out of this.

I take a deep breath.

"I'm transgender." I spit out.

A pause.

"Oh." John says and I start considering the different ways I could jump off the window right now.

"So you're like, a boy?" I nod mutely. "Have you told anyone about this?"

"...No." I mumble.

He sighs and I know this is it. This is when he's going to say he can't do this, that he hates me, and that he doesn't want to ever speak to me again. It's over.

"We should probably get you some actual binders then," He says instead. "Cause those bandages can like, really fuck you up,"

What?

"What?" He answers and I realize I said that out loud.

"Why are you so– so _chill_ about this!?"

"Would you rather if I was angry?"

"No!" I rush to say. "But, I— I didn't think—"

"You didn't think I would accept you..?" John says carefully.

"I... I don't know." I confess.

"As— _You're_ my best friend. Your gender won't change that, and it's not like you decided to be like this,"

God, I feel like I could cry out of utter relief for the second time today. Only that this time is kinda better. Well, maybe much better.

"You're too good to be true," I say, looking away so he doesn't see the tears pooling I my eyes. Why am I so emotional?

He scoffs. "I'm not, if anything I'm mildly decent," I snort, because he's an angel and he doesn't even know it.

"Do you... have a name? That you would like to be called?"

"Alexander," I say, and my chest fells so full with happiness now that I can say this out loud.

"Well, nice to meet you Alexander Hamilton. Now, about those binders?"

 


	9. Himself

 

"No– please stop spitting out your food," I ask Sir Bubbles as I feed him fish pellets but of course, he ignores me.

I sigh and put the lid back on his ten-gallon tank, hoping he'll actually eat his food eventually. Then I throw myself to my bed. Roll around. Sit up. Down. Pace around the room for around five minutes. Sit down again. Sigh.

John texted me this morning that my binder had arrived today and that he'll come give it to me as soon as he can. I'm too anxious, too excited. I'm literal electricity right now. I mean, can you believe it? A _binder_ , I'm going to have an honest to god binder. No need for those ace bandages anymore, no need to wear a bazillion sports bras simultaneously or four layers of baggy hoodies and sweaters that still let the imperfections show. I'll be able to just look down and see it be flat.

I'll have to be careful, of course. John has been like a gulp of fresh air when I was drowning on the closet, but he's still the only one who knows. Still, I'll be able to wear it when I'm alone or with him. It doesn't matter, I'll take _anything_.

Suddenly I hear a tap on my window and I swear every single hair in my body tensed up. 

I scramble off the bed and go to the window, where John is waiting on the tree with a packet on his hand. I opened it as fast as I physically can and step back with little jumps so he can come in.

"Hey," He says.

"Hey!" I say a little too excitedly as we do our secret handshake. "Nice braids,"

He unconsciously touches the braids on the side of his head and smiles. "Thanks. Martha did 'em. You know how she is,"

I nod. John's sister has always liked hairstyling and usually uses her siblings to experiment, him being the number one guinea pig.

"So," He says and shakes the package a little. "You ready?"

I was fucking born ready.

After a quick exchange, I take the thick envelope and head to the bathroom with quick steps. Immediately I lock the door and press my back against it. I feel like my heart is going to burst. Not wanting to waste any more time

(I've already wasted fifteen years of my life)

I rip it open with much struggle and shaking hands until I'm met with a cloth wrapped in plastic. I trash the plastic too, it's only on the way of that's probably about to become my most precious possession.

It's grey and only covers about half of my torso. I squish it and force the tears back as I stare at it for a little longer.

This is actually happening.

I hurry to take my shirt, jacket, and sports bra off, (and though I didn't notice at the moment, that was probably the first time in a long time I actually wanted to undress), and start putting the binder on.

Here's something I learned during the next five seconds: Binders? Wonderful. A goddamn blessing. But they're the single most difficult piece of clothing I've ever had to put on in my life. I felt like I had to wrestle with the devil himself in order to obtain the privilege to have a flat chest. After I win the battle against a piece of cloth, I manage to finally ( _finally!!_ ) put the binder on.

_Oh_.

Oh _shit_.

This is a moment I've fantasized and thought of and since the moment I hit puberty. There were a million variants on how this would go (it's going to be too tight. Too loose. It won't be flat enough. It won't fit—) but I didn't think it would be like, like–

Like this. So _flat_.

"Holy shit," I say and I can't stop smiling. I look down and then at the mirror and I have to bite my cheek to keep from crying. I just feel so relieved, so euphoric, for a second I feel so so..

Me. Like this is how it was always supposed to be.

"You okay in there?" John asks gently after a while. I'm simply not able to look away. _Fuck_ it's actually so flat.

"Yeah, I just- give me a sec," I pick up my shirt from the floor and I don't feel like I need to put another layer on top. I put it on, and I walk out.

"Hey!" I say once again and give a ridiculous spin. Who would think putting something on would make me feel lighter, like I could jump and fly away.

He whistles lowly, not like a catcall but like he's impressed and I know he's joking around. "Is like there was never anything there,"

I snort, still not able to stop smiling. "I know, right?"

"Does it feel alright? Is it like too tight or-"

I shake my head. "It's just fine. How much do I owe you?"

"I already told you, you don't need to pay me back," John insists.

I shrug. "I know. I still want to,"

A binder won't solve all of my issues, especially considering I'm still deep in the closet. But damn does it make me feel like _me_ right now.

 

•••

 

It's around one in the morning and I'm downstairs looking for a "midnight" snack. The binder is still on, I haven't been able to get myself to take it off. Unfortunately I know I'll have to do it eventually, John already talked me through all the rules (don't sleep with it, take it off if you have trouble breathing, be careful to not overheat, don't wear it when you're sick, don't exercise with it, take breaks—) I already knew because of years of reading, but it'll be just a couple more minutes before I go to sleep for good. Promise.

I hear footsteps from the stairs and I know it probably isn't the Washingtons.

"Lexi," Lafayette says.

"Laf," I say back with a smile. "Fancy some cereal?"

He shakes his head. "Just here for some _l'eau_ ,"

"Ah."

I notice him looking at me kinda weird as he leaves, but surely he didn't notice.

Right?

Before I can start panicking I force a spoonful of cereal into my mouth and breath through my nose.

It'll be fine.

 


End file.
